Submission complete

Couldn't sleep much last night because I was so anxious about handing everything in today. Got up early, walked all the way to school with my work clutched tightly to my chest, thought to beat the crowd and get it bound.

The repro room was a confusion of binding spines and paper trimmings. Managed to hand it in at 10am the first time. Thought I would feel relieved that everything had been done, but felt a growing worry as I walked away from the undergraduate office. Realised that I hadn't actually checked the page order after binding it. It made me turn around by the time I was two floors up and before I knew it I was asking Matt rather sheepishly if I could have my stuff back to look over. And the pages were really out of order! Mg. Cold sweat. Resubmitted it half an hour later. That's pretty much been the story of my whole year.

The others had funnier stories to tell about what happened to them during the twenty-four hours leading up to 12pm. The usual things about all-nighters, broken printers, messed up margins, stolen reams of paper, and bowel-melting stress. I have a feeling only about half the year managed to get it in on time. The queue for the binders in the repro-room were still pretty long at 12.05pm, and someone was still putting their appendix together at 3pm.

It's actually been a pretty tiring day. I don't know whether to hate or love estate agents, but I definitely hate it when Weng and Cheryl make me do the break up.

So close you can taste it

I'm forty-eight pages, one log book, and 14.5 hours away from the last submission of my undergraduate life. That extra year that I sat and watched my friends graduate and try their wings in the great big post-university world felt incredibly long but also heart stoppingly short. However, if I ever hear anyone mention particle or scanning electron microscope to me again, I will burst into tears.

So tomorrow, when I'm walking down Queens gate, I'm going to feel like I'm carrying a million dollars in my bag. An entire year's worth of blood, sweat, and tears culminating in two copies of my final report and a battered log book. I should probably hire an armoured car.

I'm so done with studying. I've had to scrape the barrel this year in terms of motivation, but it's almost done.

The escapades of Captain Obvious

W: My tummy hurts.
A: Why? What did you eat?
W: I don't know.
A:Well it couldnt've been anything we all ate, 'coz we're fine.
W: Maybe it was the spaghetti...
A: Oh?
W: Yeah, there were white spots on it.
A: -_-

The next day...
W: My tummy hurts.
A: What? Still hurts or again?
W: Uh, I don't know, it hurts.
A: What crap did you eat this time?
W: The bak kwa (barbecued meet) was expired.
A: But you ate it anyway. -_-

My boy has forced me to appreciate the eloquence of this face. -_-